In Memory
by sonicsora
Summary: In the media frenzy surrounding the stage accident that claimed the lives of most of Kabbage Boy, one man is forgotten about entirely. Who would remember a roadie after all? Well, besides other roadie's that is.


Written after talking with Brutalhearts666 (meme emperor) about this idea and it kinda spiraled out of my control, lmao.

Given the tone of Brutal Legend's brief dip in modern-ish 2009, I figured I'd lean heavily on how shit media is.

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_"As of last night, there have been no further updates regarding the horrific accident that happened during Kabbage Boy's 'Tour Of Supreme Hotness'._

_Authorities are still gathering evidence and going over security footage to determine the cause of the accident. Was it an out of control pyrotechnics? Was it a robotic stage malfunction? Questions continue to pile up and we're eager to learn more._

_Kabbage Boy's manager has given an official statement regarding the incident and 'Tour Of Supreme Hotness'. The tour hasn't been officially canceled, merely postponed until the investigation is concluded. As the saying goes, the show must go on. Further details will be released regarding this decision within the next few days. Those injured during the accident will be partially refunded for their troubles and offered new tickets to the next show._

_Currently, authorities have found no fault in the crew or band themselves-_" The woman's voice warbled and warped turning to static as the TV's screen flickered.

With a grunt he tapped his knuckles against the top of the aging tube TV. He reached out to fiddle with the antenna unhappily. "Damn it, I need to replace this god damn thing." He wiggled the antenna with more vigor to try and correct the image on screen. "Useless piece of crap."

"You keep saying that but haven't done shit about it, Ren." The dirty blonde woman exhaled from over her beer, squinting out at her fellow roadie from her perch on the couch. "Y'know it is 2009 right? You could finally upgrade. Maybe even get a TV that isn't from the 70's?"

"If you two start on that argument again, I'm leaving. Gonna go hitchhiking and find a new way of fucking life." The dark skinned woman next to the crate of beers cut in. She paused for a moment, clearly expecting someone else to jump in but found only silence in her wake. Normally, Eddie would step in with a joke of some kind. Normally Eddie was here with them.

The group of three paused uncertainly sharing glances before the second woman spoke again, her voice went quiet and uncertain as she leaned over the edge of the armchair she was in to paw at the beer crate. "…The one time I need Riggs back up and he's not here. Stupid bastard."

"Claire…" The first woman started slowly, opening and closing her mouth after a moment. Her expression softened which only seemed to make the other woman bristle.

"Marine." The dark skinned woman snipped back, her dreads bouncing as she whipped around to point at the other woman with her unopened beer bottle. "Look, I know your name too!"

"Christ, please, now is not the damn time." Ren groaned, before slapping his TV with an open palm. That was enough to make the TV jump back into focus. The TV coming back was enough to distract the three roadies from further bickering. The sharply dressed woman on the TV came back into focus, her brows pulled together in an overly concerned expression.

_"There will be a memorial vigil for lives lost in the accident on Saturday for fans. Kabbage Boy is survived by their bassist Otis Floy, who will be at the vigil for a short period of time to speak of his lost bandmates and sign autographs for those in mourning."_ The woman on the television shuffles her papers in her hands. Her carefully coiffed hair bounces as she tilts her head somewhat to the side. _"Truly such a tragedy means there will be quite a showing of course. We look forward to hearing Otis speak in the wake of such a sad state of affairs."_

"Sure, just a vigil for them. Cause they were the important ones." Marine muttered with a wrinkle of her nose.

"You'd think Eddie want a big showy memorial?" Ren questioned with an arch of his brows, a hand settled against his TV. He tapped his fingers against the top uncertainly. "It wasn't his style, M."

"Be nice if they acknowledge he died more than a passing sentence?" The dirty blonde woman pressed, lips thinning into an unhappy thin line. "They literally showed footage of him being crushed for gods sake!"

Claire just twisted the cap off of her beer, cutting her gaze over to Marine casually. Her annoyance punctured by the news playing in the background. "Look, they stopped showing that clip by the second day, so- he got a little respect. Sides, it is better than them blaming him for… whatever happened."

The three went silent again. Ren let his hand drop away from the TV to pick up his own beer, taking a sip of it as he flopped back into his own chair. None of them knew quite what to say for a moment before Ren found his voice.

"Everyone keeps saying it was some weird animatronic? Like, did Eddie know how to make robots?" He chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "I didn't think he knew about robots?"

"It sure wasn't in any of the plans. He would have told us if it was." Marine threw back, rolling her beer bottle between her hands anxiously. "I sure don't remember building anything like that!"

"We sure weren't that drunk to forget a robot." Claire agreed with an arch of her brow. "Not that Mr. Task Master Riggs would let you be plastered when you were working." She huffs with some laughter, eyes going half-lidded for a moment.

"Hey, at least it meant we were always safe. Better than last tour I was on." Ren threw back with a roll of his eyes. "No one got hurt until… this." None of them quite knew what to say for a moment.

"You think, he's at least laughing at this dumb shit?" Marine let her cheek lull against her palm with a frown.

"From heaven or whatever?" Claire clicked her teeth for a moment, clearly trying to figure out what to say. "I dunno. He did try helping those idiots before he… you know." She awkwardly waved her hand, before it closed into a fist as she ran out of words.

"Yeah, but he hated their guts." Ren was quick to offer, a little disgust leaking into his voice at thought of the band themselves. Even in death, Kabbage Boy wasn't spared the roadie's irritation. Marine was no better, her expression darkening. "Shoulda let 'em fall." Marine agreed lowly, blonde eyebrows pinching together in annoyance. "Only fair."

"You both know he wouldn't have. He wasn't a showy bastard, he wasn't a mean bastard, he was a-" Claire exhaled, sinking back into the armchair she's reclined back in. "He was a good one."

"Yeah."

Silence lapsed over the group again as the TV played in the background, the story on Kabbage Boy being passed over to discuss some local story about a two-headed baby being born in the San Fransisco area.

"Is this… his memorial?" Marine questioned, her gaze flicking from the TV to her friends. Whatever interest she had about the two-headed baby gone in place of a more pressing topic. "Just us?"

"For now." Ren scratched his stubbled cheeks, his lips curling into a faint kind of smile. "Got a few more people coming. Word spread y'know?"

"From the tour-?" Claire questioned wracking her brain to think of anyone else they actually knew during that mess who knew Eddie. Ren shakes his head slowly, laughing a little tiredly. "From, other tours, Eddie got around. He was best in the biz."

"And here I thought all this beer was for me." Claire threw back out, tipping her bottle mockingly back at Ren. The man laughed at that, "If it was just for you, there would be more. You god damn lush."

"Oh you know me, little ole lush." Claire joked casually back, "How long till they're here?" The sound of knocking at the door was timely enough to startle the three.

"Now, I suppose." Ren rose from his seat with another laugh, "I'm coming! Gimme a hot second" He called out as he drifted away from his seat and the TV. The old tube TV fell back into warbling static the reporters faces warping as the antenna drooped.

Marine rolled her eyes, turning in her seat on the couch to shout "New TV, Ren! New TV!" The scruffy man flipped her off as he opened the front door. Other roadies walked in, exchanging greetings and hugs, unsurprisingly hauling in more beer as well.

"Forget the TV, can someone actually put on some decent music in here?"


End file.
